


the milk boy

by choisanctuary



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Accidental Death, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I'm probably forgetting something, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Minor Character Death, Murder, Strangers to Lovers, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Violence, but not as fucked up, changlix, changlix angst, i don't know how to tag, inspired by the mudge boy, it's not super graphic though, kpop, there will be trigger warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2020-10-24 13:53:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choisanctuary/pseuds/choisanctuary
Summary: When worlds collide and one fatal mistake is made, things tend to fall apart much quicker than expected. Changbin only hopes he can put it back together again.





	1. introduction

**Author's Note:**

> it'll probably take me 3647 years to finish this story, not because it's long but because i'm really lazy. i'll put trigger warnings on the chapters that involve homophobia, violence and death, not every chapter deals with such subjects. this story probably won't be very good either, but i've wanted to write a changlix au for a while now and the idea came to me months ago after i watched The Mudge Boy (wouldn't recommend it, i wasn't prepared for the shit that was in it).

The town of Gimdong was large, yet somehow small at the same time. Fields and farmland spread for miles, thick forest ran alongside the endless roads, neighbours lived twenty minutes away from each other. Yet, there was a sense of community. Everyone shared everything, provided for each other in one way or another. Even if you couldn’t recite every name by memory, you could certainly recognise most faces. Changbin wasn’t always great at memorising faces, but he found it difficult to care most of the time. He was certain that a majority of the community looked down on him, as well as Chan and Jisung, for their “rebelliousness”. There wasn’t a word that could define their specific style―delinquent, bad boy, Greaser?―so parents opted to express their distaste for the leather jackets and coloured hair with colourful vocabulary. Changbin didn’t see the problem with their attire, but he supposed that in a town full of silky black hair and stereotypical outfits ― florists wearing dresses, farmers wearing overalls, butchers wearing the blood of animals ― he and his friends had a bad habit of standing out. 

There were people in the town that stood out to Changbin. Lee Eunbi stood out the most, mainly because she couldn’t contain her drool when she lay eyes on him. But, in her absence, the boy found his eyes drifting to someone he’d never paid attention to before. Though, this time, he didn’t harbour distaste in his gaze. The boy was slim with a bright smile, constellations of brown freckles painting his slightly tanned skin. His hair was dyed an unnatural colour, orange, but it worked to amplify the brightness and innocence he radiated―perhaps that’s why he never received the judgement Changbin did. Sometimes, the blue-black haired boy caught sight of the milk boy, he was wearing some sort of neutral white and brown outfit, sometimes having playful suspenders hold up his pants. Other times he wore worn jeans and a tucked-in white t-shirt. The most Changbin knew about him was that he rode a bike and his family worked with livestock, as suggested by the sold milk to people in town. 

Ah, the town. The markets, specifically. It was where Changbin and his friends frequented, all having different purposes for being there. Changbin sometimes dropped off chopped wood in his dad’s truck and visited the markets afterwards, other times he hitched a ride with Chan to buy new lumber tools or simply hangout. Chan was the oldest of the three, meaning he often had the responsibility of hauling them to and from the markets while also juggling carpentry work. His father was always a kind man, allowing Chan to go out and ‘enjoy his youth’ instead of working non-stop ― Changbin often envied that freedom. Jisung was in a similar situation as Changbin. He’d been working at his family’s auto-workshop since he was fourteen, taking the mornings and afternoons off to spend time with his friends before busting his ass through the night to make up for it. Still, he managed to be bubbly and energetic as ever. The three often hopped into Chan’s white truck to travel to the markets, sitting at one of the picnic tables in the shade to smoke and kick back before work caught up with them. Other times, they simply travelled into town to sip on cheap beer and play rowdy games of poker―Jisung was infuriatingly good at poker, but could also be generous on occasion and share his winnings with the older two. The town was usually a place of fun for Changbin ― enjoying food from the diner, drinking cheap alcohol with his friends because no one checked their ID, or splurging on a game of bowling and pure fuckery ― but he supposed not every experience would be a good one. When worlds collide and one fatal mistake is made, things tend to fall apart much quicker than expected. Changbin only hopes he can put it back together again. 


	2. town square

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gimdong was incredibly dull, boring, everything was the same. But, it's the same town that's brought Changbin a freckled milk boy he can't take his eyes off of, and said boy can't help but crave more of Changbin's attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when i said there would be slow updates i didn't realise i meant T HA T slow

Chan ran a hand through his curly hair, the freshly dyed locks tickling his fingers softly. The brown colour had finally returned after a long journey of bleaching the strands, letting the dark roots grow slightly before halting their progress with a fresh batch of bleach. He liked the look of his blonde hair, he thought it suited him well, but he wasn’t particularly fond of the crispiness and sudden breakage he began to deal with. Thus, he decided to make the slow transition back to dark hair, aiming to return to a darker brown or black colour. Jisung sat beside him, riding in the passenger seat after borderline screeching ‘shotgun!’ He was talking animatedly, as he often did, about a stray cat he’d seen seeking warmth under the hood of a car he’d been working on last night. There was no mention of how long he’d spent slaving away at such cars, he’d probably get shouted at by Chan for not taking care of his health and sleeping enough―quite a hypocritical reprimanding in Changbin’s opinion. Regardless of whether they bickered or not, Changbin never seemed to find a moment of tranquillity in the presence of his two friends. Though, he supposed that wasn’t a bad thing. The silence could be deafening and he already experienced it enough at home, maybe too much. The wheels of the truck slowed as Chan pulled the vehicle to park against the curb, straightening up cautiously before killing the engine. The market was already bustling, it was obvious even from afar with the piercing sounds of children laughing and squealing happily. Changbin didn’t mind kids, some were good and some were bad, but he didn’t know how to interact with them. They were often blunt, playful or just… weird. Then again, Changbin was weird―at least to those who didn’t know him.

Smoke wafted through the air, the scent of nicotine tainting the fresh air of the outdoors. In Gimdong, it wasn’t uncommon for people to smoke. Most parents smoked while working, troublesome kids started smoking young―Changbin started smoking young―while others wait until their late twenties or early thirties to engage in the nicotine. Suffice to say, no one had an issue with the three boys breathing and exhaling the toxic scent. It was a bright and clear day, the sun beaming blindingly in the crystal skies with scatters of stray clouds contrasting against the blue canvas. The sound of shoes scuffing, children giggling and haggling adults sounded throughout the market. It was the background noise that Changbin had become accustomed to considering he spent a majority of his time in the market ― either passing time with his friends or dropping off logs of tree wood for his mother to sell ― and despite his frequent visits to the area, he still couldn't figure out who ninety percent of the people were. There was always one person he could remember, though, and it was that whiny, clingy brat who reeked of desperation―Lee Eunbi. She truly didn't understand the concept of ‘taking a hint’ Changbin had come to find out, as she frequently skipped her way over to the three teenage boys to cling onto Changbin like a leech―fitting, considering she sucked all the life out of him, and not in a way that he enjoyed. Chan and Jisung were keeping count of how many times he had rejected her, and they were averaging at fifteen times a month. It was exhausting, and his eyes rolled at the mere thought of her. Thankfully, she was taking a trip out of town for the current week, giving Changbin seven days of tranquillity. There were moments where he stared at his two friends, eyeing them curiously as he wondered why her affections weren’t targeted at one of them. They didn’t put effort into their looks, yet somehow managed to always look good, and they’d certainly be more likely to return her affections―either because they genuinely wanted a relationship or because they wanted to get some. Changbin assumed it was the latter. It frustrated him to be sought after. Not only was it irritating, it was pointless on Eunbi’s behalf, but not for a reason he could just openly share without violent consequences. There was a disadvantage to chasing after Changbin, a huge one, something only he and his friends knew. 

Changbin was gay.

It was a secret he’d kept for almost twenty-one years of his life, and he intended to keep it that way. And he most certainly wasn’t going to risk his life for some girl who couldn’t take no for an answer.

The burning sensation in his legs only grew as Felix peddled the bike faster. It was just past nine o’clock when he left, meaning he would likely get there just after nine-thirty unless he slowed down to accommodate comfort. That would be the second time this week; he had already gained a smack to the back of the head and a verbal warning from his father. Though, in all honesty, he thought it was quite unfair. When he thought about his job, if he could even call it that, he realised how much of a hassle it was, and he was saving his parents the trouble. Felix would wake up early in the morning, gather as many glass bottles of milk as possible, and then dash out the door in an attempt to make it to town before the milk got too warm. His family lived further out than most, meaning he had to pedal at an alarming and mildly dangerous pace to reach town before nine-thirty. That was always when the market reached its busiest, especially in the warmer months of the year, an attempt to avoid mixing the sweltering heat with bustling, rowdy crowds. 

In his defence, it wasn’t Felix’s fault he was running late. His older sister usually woke him up in the morning, but she’d passed the responsibility onto the youngest of the three while she was out of town. Though, his younger sister either forgot or ignored the job and left for school without sparing him a thought. Now that he thought about it, maybe it was his fault―he chose to rely on his siblings rather than his punctuality. Felix sighed as he took a right turn towards the town―the trip would certainly be shorter if he used a car, but he’d always liked to admire the greenery that passed when he leisurely rode back home. If he used a car he’d have to keep his eyes on the road at all times. Felix was distracted at times, and the purchase would leave quite a dent in his family’s savings―Felix was fine with cycling.

The bike was dumped in the same place it was always left as soon as the basket of milk was emptied, hidden among shrubbery near an entrance to the town square. The town was already bustling with people, ranging from lumberjacks in their sixties to children too young to attend school. A soft smile spread across Felix’s slightly chapped lips at the scene, reminiscing on the days he was running as freely as them. That was before his family moved across the world. His smile faltered at the thought of the move. Of course, he didn’t have a say in moving, but that didn’t make it any easier. He was still yet to make friends in Korea, even after all these years, and he was only recognised by people who regularly bought products from his family’s farm―often because no other milk boy in town had freckles and dyed hair. Though Felix was often okay with that, he usually liked the solitude. 

As far as Changbin was concerned, the town of Gimdong was full of bland people. The town thrived on family businesses and self-produced product; you either had slightly more money and ran an establishment, or you had the same small amount of coins as everyone else, relying on some sort of trade to fund your life. Most of the people Changbin knew, or rather knew of, relied on trades rather than lavish and thriving businesses. Lumberjacks, farmers, mechanics, carpenters, those were the ones Changbin was most exposed to. But, nothing made them stand out. They wore clothes of the same material and bland colours, had the same dirt unknowingly smeared on their face, it was all the same. The boy allowed his eyes to wander around the town square, breathing in the tobacco stick between his lips as his friends spoke distantly. Everything was the same as far as Changbin could tell, though slightly quieter without the squawking of Eunbi. And then, something was different.

There was a boy with a bright smile―the kind he’d never seen before, one that managed to shine brighter than the burning fire in the sky. For some reason, Changbin hadn’t noticed him before, but it seemed that he was frequently in town. People seemed to recognise him, making small talk as they traded coins for glass bottles of milk. Although Changbin usually didn’t commit identities to memory, he was almost certain that unnatural orange hair and speckles of dark freckles would stay ingrained in his mind. He’d never seen anyone with freckles before, not in real life at least.

The town was bland, as far as Changbin could see. The buildings were the same monotone colours, chipped painting in shapes of brown, cream and beige, the roaming citizens managing to blend into one blur with the same type of clothing and dirt smudges tainting their skin. Then again, Changbin understood why they all conformed to the same mould―Changbin and his two friends constantly received strange looks, plagued with assumptions regarding their characters, often that they were no-good troublesome bums. It wasn’t entirely true. Just because they didn’t shy away from confrontation, defending those they cared about, didn’t mean they were troublemakers. If anything, they were twice as hardworking as the drunkards that provoked him―Jisung’s dark circles only proved such.

Though, that specific day at the town square, amid the swarming markets, Changbin found someone who stood out―someone he was yet to know. A shining smile, one that made the burning sun envious, with sparkling chocolate eyes and an array of dark freckles. His hair, a slightly tousled array of blonde strands, shone under the rays of sunshine, appearing soft and free of knots from where Changbin stood. It would be an understatement to say the boy was pretty, he was mesmerising. His clothes were similar to that of everyone else's, a crinkled white t-shirt tucked into slightly tattered dark blue jeans. Changbin could only assume the boy had his fair share of overalls and knitted sweaters, button-up flannelettes both short and long-sleeved. That was common among farmers in the area; Changbin assumed he came from a family of farmers. There was something about the boy that captivated him, in a way that he couldn’t look away and break his intense gaze; he was setting himself up to look strange, but he couldn’t help it. It felt as if the blonde stranger had locked his eyes on him, forcing him to watch as he beamed and exchanged bottles of milk for an undetermined amount of coins. Even when the boy glanced in the direction of the raven-haired boy and locked eyes with him, Changbin could only maintain eye contact. A small smile in Changbin’s direction, then his eyes diverted elsewhere. Changbin didn’t realise the small smirk that had spread across his lips, and he certainly didn’t notice the crimson tint on the blonde’s cheeks.

Felix pondered who the dark-haired male was. It was surprising he’d never seen him before, he stood out a fair bit with his leather jacket and slicked back hair―and the fact he was incredibly attractive. There was something that drew Felix to the other, a cloud of mystery and an air of uniqueness that seemed to hover around him at all times. Or maybe it was the intense stare he’d given the milk boy; a stare of genuine curiosity, interest. It was such a foreign feeling to Felix, one he craved so desperately, perhaps this boy was willing to give it to him.


End file.
